


No Apologies

by migratoryslashfan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hale Family Feels, Missing Scene, POV Peter Hale, Peter Hale Appreciation Week, Peter Hale Feels, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/migratoryslashfan/pseuds/migratoryslashfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arguing with Derek is supposed to be fun, not  a reminder of how alone he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to Peter week! :D And hopefully more to come.

It was the same argument they had every time, whenever Derek got a wild hair up his ass to run off and help the McCall kid's pack from some mortal peril or another. Only this time, Peter could feel his rage bubbling hotter beneath his skin than usual, hot enough to burn if he didn't let off some of the steam.

"You can't keep sitting on the sidelines, Peter," Derek said, repeating a favored mantra. "Not if you expect to stay in my pack."

"I'm sorry," Peter said coolly, attempting to temper his anger with a smirk, "but I seem to remember being left alone in a coma for six years. You'll forgive me if I'm less than keen on helping."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

Peter snapped, banging his fist into the table. It cracked under his anger. "I also remember the few members left of my pack _abandoning_ me to the care of _humans_ ," he said, watching Derek's demeanor shift from exasperation to shock. "Humans who had no idea how I'd survived, much less how to help me heal any faster."

Whatever calm he'd collected unraveled like a spool of thread. It wasn't technically Derek's fault, not really; Laura had been the one to make the decision to leave Beacon Hills so many years ago. She was Derek's alpha then, so he'd had no choice but to comply. To comply, or be left behind the way Peter was.

"You have no idea what that was like," Peter said, his voice barely a whisper. He hated admitting to any kind of weakness, even if it was through no fault of his own. Even if similar circumstances would've taken down any other beta werewolf. It had taken six years to fully heal, but he _had_ survived, had healed on his own without much aid of a pack. The few visits Derek deigned to provide were so few and far between, and so late in coming as he'd taken a year to even start, that their combined effect had all the efficacy of a tiny bandage on a severed limb.

Derek sighed. "You're right," he said. "I don't know what that was like."

That he finally acknowledged it was something, but then he had to keep talking.

"But it's not an excuse," Derek continued. The scowl returned to his face. "You survived, you healed - you fucking _came back from the dead_. You've had more chances than anyone deserves, and you used one of those chances to kill my sister. So you can take all of your self-righteous indignation and shove it."

Peter was done. He was done with this battle, he was done with Derek. He was just done. Marching toward the door, he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.

Derek gaped. "Where the hell are you going?"

"To get some air."

"Seriously? You're still not going to fight?"

"Trust me, Derek: if I stay in here any longer, you'll end up having to replace all of your furniture. Not just the table." He stormed out, hauling ass down the stairs before Derek decided to follow him.

More than weakness, Peter hated admitting need. He needed Derek now, more than he'd needed him after the fire had consumed most of his flesh, and that was a hard thing to acknowledge even to himself. The hardest part was that Derek didn't need him anymore, not the way he used to, if indeed he ever had. Derek had betas now, Isaac and Boyd and _Cora_ , and he had that rare prize among their species - an extended pack. A fellow pack that combined with his when the chips were down and someone was in need.

Just so long as that someone wasn't Peter.

Peter stopped walking, checking his surroundings with alert purpose. He'd made it to the Preserve, nearly ten miles away from Derek's place. He hadn't realized his feet had taken him so far so quickly.

Peter sighed. What did he really expect from Derek? He'd been barely more than a kid when the fire took his family too. He'd _had_ to follow Laura's lead; she was his Alpha.

 _If only such logic had worked on Scott,_ a traitorous voice in his head told him, full of teasing affection. He hated when he heard her voice - those moments when he knew exactly what she'd say to her younger brother. It was in those moments that he knew he was being unfair - or worse, stupid. Of course, correcting himself was never the advice he wanted, and rarely did he ever apologize to anyone; but, he knew this time he should. Moreover, this time, he _would_.

When he made it back to the loft, he heard voices inside as he approached the door, speaking low. He almost couldn't hear them himself, so the other person must be a werewolf too; probably Isaac. It sounded male.

"I couldn't help it," he heard Derek say. "He just pushed me too far this time."

Then the other voice - too low to make out the words but familiar. Not Isaac either.

"I know," Derek replied. "You're right. I'll talk to him."

"You don't have to like him," the other voice said, loud enough this time. "God knows I don't."

And then he realized: it was Scott. What the hell was he doing here this time?

"But as much as I hate to say it, we need him," Scott continued. "We're dealing with a pack of alphas and a pissed-off druid; we need all hands on deck."

 _See?_ Peter told the voice in his head. _Apology not necessary after all._

Peter cleared the rest of the stairs and opened the door, putting on his most charming and deadly smile.

"Scott," he greeted him. "To what do we owe the visit?"

Scott frowned. "We need your help."

This time, Peter relished Derek's annoyed expression.

"Well, you know me," Peter said, shrugging out of his jacket. "I live to serve."


End file.
